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I slide my gloved hands under my ass. If I’m sitting on them, he can’t touch me—and I can’t reach for him.
Then, swallowing back the ball of emotions that are lodged in my throat, I snap, “What are you staring at?”
Because he is staring. And, okay, there are probably a hundred other things I could have said to acknowledge him—something like, “Who the hell are you, stranger in my bedroom,” since I’m not about to admit I remember him—but his stare is bothering me.
“It’s been a long time,” he says in answer. Long time? No shit. “You look different.”
I do? Well, so does he.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about me.”
Nine’s voice is soft, lyrical, alluring. Just like the golden fae. But it’s harsh too, like it used to be. It always made me think he was mad at me. Whenever it softened, I felt like I won a prize.
The harsh edge grates against the last of my nerves. “How can I forget you?” I demand. “There’s no you to forget. Anyway, I made you up when I was a kid. You shouldn’t be here!”
I can’t believe what I’m seeing. For years I believed in him—trusted him, loved him—and then he was gone. For years, I’ve been lectured, coached, medicated, and convinced that he never existed. And, yet, here he is. My imaginary friend, almost exactly as he was back then, standing a few feet away from me.
I wonder, if I yell loud enough, will the sound carry through the wall? Probably not. I could bang on the door, hope that one of the overnight nurses is passing by. Would they help me? Or only sedate me again?
I don’t scream. Just in case. I don’t scream.
But I whisper. “No. No. You… know what? You’re not real. You’re not. You’re a hallucination, that’s all. You shouldn’t be here. I took my pills.”
“I assure you, I’m as real as you are.” He hesitates before extending his arm. His skin is so pale, it seems to glow in the moonlight. “Touch me and prove it to yourself.”
A hysterical laugh bubbles up and out of my throat. “Ha! If you really were Nine, you’d tell me not to touch you at all.”
He smiles. The simple quirk of his lush lips has my stomach tied up in knots. Nine’s grin is even worse than Dr. Gillespie’s—but for totally different reasons.
“Ah,” he says softly, “so you do remember.”
Suddenly, I’m twelve again, smiling adoringly up at Nine, preening because his voice has gentled. No, no. No. I’m older now and, if not wiser, then definitely wary. I’ve only got two weeks until I’m twenty-one and I can put this all behind me.
I push away, scoot back, slamming my head, my neck, my back against the wall behind me. I slip my hands out from under my ass, clutching the hem of my blanket, yanking it so that it covers me to my belly button. I’m wearing my Black Pine tee to sleep like I always do and the bared skin on my arms has me wishing I had the will to get up and get my hoodie.
I can’t, though. I’m still stunned, frozen in my bed.
Nine is waiting for me to say something.
So I do.
“What are you doing here?”
The smile fades. His expression goes stony, his silver eyes dimming noticeably. “You were supposed to be safe. No one should have been able to track you here, but… it’s time, Shadow. They found you. She knows where you are.”
They.
The fae.
I’ve spent almost twenty years waiting for them to find me. Last night, the golden fae male followed me into my dream.
At least, I thought it was a dream.
Wasn’t it?
Shadow… god, I haven’t heard that name in so long. I missed it. I didn’t even realize how much I did until Nine threw it out there like that, another way to remind me that—whether or not I’ve made him up—we have a history together. Shadow. Because he only came at night, because he stayed to the shadows himself, it made me feel so precious that he cared enough to give me a name that reminded me of him.
